I really don`t know why, but when I read the words changing places I think of moving places. Maybe moving and changing is not the same thing, because not everything moves, and almost everything changes. But I think both of them bring us to something new. Every time a color is changed in the sky or a person crosses to the left instead of the right, something new is created in result. Life is full of decisions to take. And some people is afraid of taking them, but I don`t see myself as one of them.

I always have loved to throw myself into the world to see what happens, but sometimes, this makes me imprudent. A good example was when I decided to paint my room of light pink. I have to say I hated that girly color in the moment I first saw it in my wall, but my parents had already bought a gallon of that expensive paint. With every brushstroke I wished for any other color, but that was how my room had to stay. The drama didn`t lasted to long, by the second day, I got truly in love with my pink room. The color was well, and was the same I chose in the paint store one day before starting painting. And it took me sometime to realize that the problem was in me, because I got refused to change.

Last year I decided to paint again my room, because it was nice for an eleven year old, but I was fourteen and it seemed to girly for me. I have some problems taking decisions some times, so my mom waited a whole year for me to chose a color, so that she could buy the paint. That day we didn`t stopped painting, My throat felt tight and rough, and my head hurt for the smell of the paint, but I wished a lot to see my room with its new colors. I chose to paint it all white with one brown wall. So that it combined with my furniture, which is all white with dark brown details. Other pro about painting the wall brown, was that I could chose to have my room with almost any color, and I wouldn`t be forced to have only pink or yellow things. After a long time of waiting, the moment of truth arrived; my mom would start painting the brown wall. I crossed my fingers and wished with all my heart for it to look nice, and it did.

My room looked pretty nice, but it needed more color, because it was all brown and white. So in a trip my parents, my brother and I did to Antigua I buy a bedding of patch work. It was of a strawberry red with small yellow details. It looked perfect in my room, because my room mixes modern style with Guatemalan and Spanish culture. I have an iron, rustic bed head, and other iron details. My room has three windows, one in the roof a small and circular one in one side and a big one in the brown wall that extends from the roof to the floor with a colonial style that opens into my balcony.

Sometimes when I see my room I try to remember how it used to be. And I feel a little melancholic because I know that is not only the room the one that had been changing, also me.  That little girl who had painted her room of light pink now prefers it dark brown. And all the toys and dolls have been changed for makeup and an ipod. The bedding that used to be light purple or pink and full of flowers is now light red. In my closet I have more high heels than sneakers, and more elegant blouses than Tshirts. Now, my mirror is higher than it used to be, so that I can see my face instead of just my chin.

Many things of my room have been changed with me, but others have stayed. Maybe I don`t sleep with my teddy bear anymore, but I steel kip it to remember how I felt every time I hold it when I was three years old and my parents had just bought it. My room didn`t changed alone, it changed because I changed. And all my infancy toys had not changed; they were just moved to other place. Some were gifted to other girls that need them more than I need them now, and others like my teddy bear stay to help me remember how everything was before.